TRAVELLING EUROPE by bus may often be the cheapest and most convenient way of getting from place to place, but don’t expect any luxury. Dilapidated, dangerous, and downright unpleasant: when it comes to the continent’s bus stations you get what you pay for—and sadly sometimes not even that. Below is a list of some of the worst examples and why they stand out from the crowd.
London Victoria
HER ART DECO terminal may have once been the pinnacle of all that was sleek and modern, but Victoria Coach Station doesn’t seem like she’s been given much attention since being built in the 1930s. Dirty, overcrowded, and home to as many pigeons as passengers, it could certainly use more than a lick of paint: in 2019, the London Fire Brigade found a catalogue of major risks which led one fire safety expert labelling the building “a walking disaster area”.
Aside from the risk of going up in flames, London Victoria’s biggest fault is one that can’t really be helped: the fact of being British. Unfair, perhaps. But from a purely UK perspective, even the worst stations on the continent have the small advantage of being foreign and new; whether shivering in the cold or crammed into a filthy waiting room, the Brit abroad can’t help but feel a certain frisson at seeing Bucharest, Naples or Lisbon flash up on the departures board. The same can’t be said, unfortunately, when the board reads Carlisle or Hull.
It's not all bad, though. Victoria is at least a proper building with proper walls and a roof—which is more than can be said for some of her sister stations on the continent. You can shelter from the British weather and, if you’re very lucky, even nab a seat. No seats to be found? Then there are always the nearby pubs and greasy spoons. A pint could cost you the same as your ticket to Paris, but it might be worth the price if you can spend an hour waiting anywhere else than Victoria Station.
Milan Lampugnano
NOT AS BAD a case of false advertising as calling Malpensa or Bergamo, 50km away, “Aeroporti di Milano”, but don’t expect to wander out of Milan Lampugnano bus station and onto Piazza del Duomo. Located a short hop from the city centre, Lampugnano maintains its reputation as a somewhat forgotten and lawless part of the city. Online you can read all sorts of stories about bags disappearing, ticket offices inflating prices, and security guards drinking the night away with their mates.
It’s true, the city of high fashion looks a little rough around the edges out here. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of opportunities to indulge in that most Italian of pass-times, people-watching—just don’t expect anywhere to sip a spritz as you do. The oddballs hanging around Lampugnano are like the oddballs hanging out at bus stations the world over, just with a certain Milanesi twist. If you turn up in the dead of night, for example, chances are there’ll be some local entrepreneur touring the station on his sputtering Vespa. Flag him down and from the back of it he’ll gladly sell you pizza, a kebab or—as he like to advertise at the top of his voice while zipping around the station on his scooter—a bag of marijuana.
Lampungno’s one saving grace? The metro station located within the terminal, meaning you’re never far from Milan’s more camera-ready face. Although when a station’s only advantage is the speed at which you can flee from it, that might be a problem in itself.
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Pilsen CAN
FOR THOSE traversing the old Iron Curtain from the West—from Munich, say, or from Paris or London—Pilsen centrální autobusové nádraží is often their first up-close glimpse of a former communist country. On the basis of Pilsen CAN alone, however, you might well question how “formerly” communist the country is. Pulling into the station on a wet and miserable afternoon, you can’t help but feel you’ve tumbled a few decades back into the thick of the Cold War.
Originally built in the 1970s, the station is like a living museum to the long-gone socialist republic. Inside the non-descript terminal you’ll find the grim, oily brown mosaics which were typical of Czech socialist public art; outside, you’ll find bus shelters decked out in rusty corrugated panelling and tufts of grass sprouting from the forecourt. Facing the station across the tram tracks is a row of tenement flats, some crumbling and brown, others painted as the Czechs inexplicably like to paint them—that is to say neon green or Tango orange. For the worn out traveller who's just off a long haul coach trip, it's an environment that feels decidedly surreal.
Such an inauspicious welcome does a disservice to what is, in reality, a great city. Despite the impression its bus station might give, Pilsen is an attractive and lively town. And as the ancestral home of pilsner beer, the city is a must when visiting a country whose beer culture may soon be inscribed on the World Heritage List. Sipping from a fat mug of Plzeňský Prazdroj on a terrace under the sun, you can certainly see why UNESCO might consider Czech breweries as contributing “outstanding value to humanity.”
And for those unafraid of the unexpected, there’s even reason to linger a minute after hopping off the coach. To a Western European, at any rate, the whole station seems pulled from another world: a world before globalisation smoothed over the peculiarities of place. Decipher the placards tied to the station railings and you'll find they don't advertise distant multinationals, but local jewellers and tradesmen. If you’re hungry, you’ll find no station Starbucks or McDonald’s, but instead Rychlé občerstvení, a fast-food joint whose name translates simply as “Fast Food”. (And yes, of course, they’ll gladly serve you a beer.) Pilsen CAN is far from comfortable, but you couldn’t mistake it for anywhere else in the world.
Venice Mestre
FROM BANNING cruise ships to installing theme park-inspired turnstiles, La Serenissima has long looked for ways to curb its overtourism problem. Stepping off at Venice Mestre, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the bus station was the city’s latest innovation. In any case, the message is clear: "Are you sure you want to get off here?"
Although only considered Venice in administrative terms, the mainland borough of Mestre is the gateway to the lagoon for both tourists and locals alike, as well as being one of the country’s busiest transport hubs. Curious, then, that the bus “station” which serves it is little more than a pole in the ground. Passengers pile up on a sliver of pavement a few feet from the train station and wait to be fetched, jostling for space with those newly dumped with their luggage on the side of the road. And considering that thirty million use this same stretch of pavement as a way to and from the train station every year, things can get a little crowded…
Granted, Venice proper has the Tronchetto station. It’s the closest a bus could conceivably take you to the car-free islands and the wisest choice for any tourist who wants to bypass the chaos of Mestre. But given the increasing unaffordability of staying in the lagoon (especially for the kind of tourist who arrives to Venice by Flixbus), you may have no other choice than to start and end your visit from Mestre.
The upside? Just barge your way through the crowds, catch a ten-minute train, and you'll soon be stepping out onto the Grand Canal. Wandering by the glittering waters of Venice, even the worst station experience will soon feel like a distant memory.
Paris Bercy
WHEN THE Baron Hausmann redesigned Paris in the 19th century, it was the new train stations that he placed at the end of his long, elegant avenues. Gare du Nord, Gare de l’Est: their facades were intended as monuments to modernity, structures to be admired as you crossed through the city. By contrast, Paris Bercy—the capital’s main international bus station—is dug beneath eight lanes of traffic near Le Périphérique ring road. To enter it is to enter the dark, hidden underbelly of the City of Lights. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Of course, to experience Bercy you need to find it first, which is no mean feat. Arrive by the nearest metro and you’ll still have to haul your bags across the dimly-lit park from which the station takes its name; following the well-hidden signs—and making sure not to look anyone in the eye as you do—will see you safely to an outdoor gym. No, you’ve not been tricked: for whatever reason, the city decided to build a gym right in front of the entrance to its main bus station. It would almost make you think they were trying to hide something shameful.
Alors, whatever could they be ashamed of? Maybe the ever-present stench of urine, or the pickpockets and thieves who’ve made the station their hunting ground. Maybe it’s the fact that France’s busiest bus terminal consists of a single narrow platform, forcing you to negotiate yourself and your luggage around the hundreds of other travellers flooding the opposite way. Any visit to Bercy inevitably ends up feeling like some grand social experiment, one to discover the limits to which a weary traveller can be pushed. Some, of course, inevitably snap. More than one has erupted at a perfect stranger. The best advice if ever you find yourself in the blast radius? Struggle on, keep your eyes straight ahead, and hope you don’t have long till departure.
In short, Bercy is universally recognised as being awful. Passengers, bus companies—even the City of Paris itself acknowledges what a disaster it is, having announced the station will be permanently closed after the 2024 Olympics. Their solution is to move the transport hub to the outskirts, à la Milan Lampugnano. Or, failing that, split it up into several smaller stations located throughout the city. Neither option serves the real needs of passengers, however: namely a centrally located hub which offers easy transfers. So, chances are that Paris’s future bus terminal, whatever form it takes, will still have its spot on this list. Félicitations!